The Second Journey
by Wanderlust
Summary: Chapter 3 is now up! Humans are forced to leave another planet under duress, but this time the stakes are much higher, and the odds are much lower. PG because I want it to be...UNFINISHED, and I don't know if it ever will be.
1. Withdrawal

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The Second Journey

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"You are the children of a dead world, earthdeirdre, and this death we do not comprehend. We will take you in, but may we ask: Will we too catch the planetdeath disease?"

  
  


-- Lady Deirdre Skye, Conversations with Planet

  
  


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Withdrawal

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A lone spaceship hurtled through the inky blackness of space.

  
  


Behind it, a brown and red world was undergoing a great metamorphosis. Red fungus was blooming and dying, and people were succumbing to the awakening alien mind as it consumed the planet.

  
  


"War is horrible. Stupid, even," a man said to his companion in the spaceship.

"Indeed, Joseph." came the reply. 

Joseph sat there and recalled the last events on Planet. There was only one faction building the Voice of Planet project, to give the god enough sentience to not undergo the metamorphosis. Then the Spartans came. Wanting dominance over Planet, not wanting the information being sent to planet to be "skewed and modified by Zakharov's demons," Santiago hurled a Planet Buster Nuclear Missile at University Base, destroying it and the project.

There wasn't enough time for it to be built again, especially with the nuclear war that was sparked by the event.

All the faction leaders died one way or another, and Planet was thrown in to anarchy at its most needy time.

Then the fungus started blooming. Its cycle. And Planetmind was going through its metamorphosis. Psi powers were killing people left and right, destroying their mind.

A hundred people took the spaceship P.C.S _Reclaim_ off the world, avoiding the guns being shot at it. The P.C.S _Reclaim_ was originally meant to recolonize and reclaim Earth, but the provisions necessary for such an excursion were not ready yet. So the _Reclaim _set off in the direction of a star believed to hold habitable worlds; Earth could not be colonized because the radiation shields were destroyed during the turbulent exit from Planet. Using the recently discovered Temporal technology, they were able to travel at not-much-faster than light speeds, and were expected to reach the star known as Hope to the people aboard in twelve years.

There were tears in Joseph's eyes. He was the de facto leader of these hundred people, which were again all that was left of the human race. And there were no cryogenic tanks this time, and the meager provisions which they brought aboard needed to be rationed from the start. Funny, in a way. Planets don't seem to like us. He forced a laugh.

"Well, Lieutenant, confirm we're on course. We've been traveling for - oh, how long -- a month now, correct?"

"Right, sir."

Only eleven months and eleven years to go.

"Dismissed."

Time passed.

  
  


_A/N This is the first short chapter, really more of the prologue, to the greater story, which will be coming up as soon as I can write it. Enjoy it for now, the exciting parts (at least, I hope they'll be exciting) will come later. I think._


	2. Disaster

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Disaster

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"And so we return again to the holy void. Some say this is simply our destiny, but I would have you remember always that the void _exists_, just as surely as you or I. Is nothingness any less a miracle than substance?"

-Sister Miriam Godwinson, _We Must Dissent_

  
  
  
  
  
  


Two years, seven months, two weeks, and three days since we left Planet. And nothing has happened. The meager R and R facilities on board, meant for a month-long trip, were already beyond old. As the de facto leader of the starship, I felt obligated to do something to cheer up the crew. I smiled. _You know people are bored when they consider looking out the window entertainment._ I looked out the front of the bridge. Stars were whizzing forwards, making it look as if we were going backwards. Our navigator said everything was fine, though, and our scientists said it was "normal temporal light distortion of the four-dimensional photons." 

How could I cheer up the crew? Morale was running lower than a hog in death valley, and people had resorted to counting the amount of different metals in the starship. When you have everything controlled by a ingenious computer our programmers named Bill, there's nothing for anybody to do. Then I had an idea....

"All right, everybody! The first monthly laser-tag fight will take place today at 1700 hours in the arena! Arm yourselves with lasers, and set the power so low that it will hurt less than a hangnail!"

At 1700 hours, everybody assembled in the arena. People were milling about, forming "alliances" even though it was supposed to be a free-for-all. I didn't mind that much, it was an exercise in entertainment, not in fairness.

"Let the games begin!" I shouted. Immediately I felt a sting on my left shoulder. "Hey! That wasn't nice!" I called out to whoever shot me. Heather turned around, gave me a big fat smile and a thumbs-up. A gloat. Oh well. The games went on for another hour.

Then, a disaster.

Somebody had knocked in to Roy, accidentally changing his laser to full power. He then fired at Heather, not knowing it was on full power. Heather managed to avoid it. The wall didn't.

The wall exploded outward from the laser blast, showering us all with fiery debris. "What the hell was in there?" I shouted. Fires were burning, and I could tell that a few different people had been hurt.

"I think storage!" somebody shouted.

"What exploded?"

"The back-up systems for Bill!" somebody else returned. I cursed.

The lights flickered, then went out. The only light came from the fire that was burning inside the storage areas. Fires and power failures. What else could go wrong? My comlink clicked. The Second-in-command started talking:

"Bill crashed. It's restarting, but we don't know where we are. The stars out here are too far away for us to tell. Our best hope is to travel at sublight speeds until we get to Hope. It'll take an extra five years, though. Note that, without course corrections, being off by one-zillionth of a degree will mean we won't even see it. Your choice, Cap."

"I knew we shouldn't have installed Windows 2533 on that thing!"

The voice at the other end laughed.

"Do we have enough stores for another five years?"

"Yes, but we'll have to ration it."

"Even with part of our supplies burning?"

"Parts of our supplies are burning?"

"Yep."

"How did that happen?"

"I'll tell you later. Do we have enough now?"

"No."

"Talk to you later. Keep the ship at its current speed."

The comlink clicked. "Out."

My fellow crewmen had put out the fire, but a fourth of our stores were gone. What to do, what to do? We were a blind rock, hurtling through space just over the speed of light, in unexplored territory. The odds of us reaching Hope alive were so low that it almost made me want to say "Turn back."

Then, I got another call from the bridge crew.

  
  


_AN: You'll find more soon enough. Enjoy this for now!_


	3. Contact

  
  


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Contact

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"And I stood before him, and I sang unto her and it appeared to listen. His very countenance rippled like the sea, and the sound of my own voice came back to me, distorted. For a moment, I thought she was mocking me, or it was nonsapient, and mimicking me. Then I understood: the sounds were not important, it was how I affected his sounds and how he affected mine that transmitted the message."

-- Prime Function Aki-Zeta Five

"One Future"

"You say we have alien ships on our scopes?"

"Yes, Joseph."

"How long before we reach them?"

"3 hours and 12 minutes."

"Thank you."

I picked up the comm. "Sick bay, come in."

"What is it, Cap?"

"Doctor, tell me the status of our local psychologist, our local decoder/slicer, and our local anthropologist."

"Geoffrey has second-degree burns, Sneaks has some shrapnel in his left leg, and Tim has a mild case of carbon monoxide --"

"Shut up, Doc. Will any of them be able to be at the bridge in three hours?"

"Well, with the other twelve people who got hurt, no, but I'll give them my full attention. Is three hours and fifteen minutes okay?"

"Not exactly. Do what you can, and do it fast, even give them Healnow if necessary."

"I hear you, Joe. I'll try."

Geoffrey was the anthropologist, Sneaks was the nickname for our slicer, and Tim was the psychologist. If we were to contact this alien race, which might be the last hope for our starship, we would need them good and ready.

  
  


Three hours later, Geoffrey, Sneaks, and Tim were at the bridge. The alien ship was fast approaching, and we could see it now. The front of it looked like a crescent moon, but shorter and thicker, and painted bright red. It almost looked like a Protoss Shuttle from StarCraft XXIV. 

"Look at that. Doesn't it look amazing?" I said to Sneaks.

Before he could answer, an alien face appeared on our viewscreen.

It certainly didn't look like a Protoss.

It had a huge, bulbous, long face that made me think of one of those Earth warthogs. Instead of huge, smooth cheeks, though, it had what looked like barnacle growth on its "cheeks." It was red.

It spoke.

"Look t thet. Doenit ti look a azhing?"

"Is it mocking me, Sneaks?"

"Sit mickong mi, Snakes?" the alien responded.

"It depends, Cap. Is it sentient?" Sneaks said.

"Yes," said Tim. "Look at the way it moves. It seemed puzzled at your speaking method. It makes hand signals noticeably different from yours."

"So we know it is sentient. Then why does it repeat what I say?"

"Si we noo tis sentint. Dien iy doit rpeat what a sa?"

"Notice it only repeats what you say, Cap. Not me. Not Sneaks," said Tim. "That's another sign of sentience. It only wants to talk to you or repeat what you say.

"Wait a second. Speak gibberish. See how the alien responds."

"If you say so."

"Fi you sa sou." the alien said. It was really starting to annoy me.

"Gibberish it is. Ghijalm gradda asdwerop.Indoodleydee. Futta!"

"Jabberit tisis. Ghidlam dorigratta asdweer. Indoddlefee. Gutta!"

"Well," said Tim. "What's gibberish to us is not gibberish to him, he repeats it."

Geoffrey spoke, for the first time during this little episode. "Maybe that is his language."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Weet doe yioi mean?" said the alien.

"His language is to slightly modify what you say. He seems puzzled at how different one statement is from the next. If you give me enough time, I could decode what he's saying."

"We don't have enough time! We're hurtling toward his spaceship! There's going to be a head-on collision! Can you do it now?" I yelled, exasperated.

"Wi donut hiv-" the alien started to respond.

Geoffrey gave me a helpless look.

  
  


A/N: More coming soon! Enjoy. And don't forget to review!


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